Fun in the Madhouse

Okay, so the motherfuckers finally closed my little gym. Considering I’ve never been in the room with more than 3 people working out at a time, I can’t for the life of me figure out how this helps curtail the spread of a disease that absolutely no one seems to have in this stupid, paranoid, shithole town.

With that meaningless closure, I’m now left with nary an outlet from the confines of my shabby hovel, the place where my roommate is imprisoned as well, already stir-crazy from boredom.

Although I’ve asked him roughly 43,000 times to never mention the news or media again, he just can’t help himself when another absurd headline pings his phone.

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Fuck You Society

I find venting to be a healthy thing. Instead of letting emotional toxins fester in the mind, heart and soul, you let ’em loose, be done with them, then move on to find solutions. Right now I have so much scathing shit I want to pump out, I don’t know where to fucking start.

But mulling it over in my head, I realize maybe it’s pointless.

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